


'Till There was You

by kaylaber1



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Smut, M/M, all of them - Freeform, what batman universe is this?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-02 03:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylaber1/pseuds/kaylaber1
Summary: Batman and the Joker were quite comfortable in their routine, blissfully able to do their respective jobs as the Dark knight and the Clown Prince of Crime without the messiness of knowing what's under the cowl. Until somebody says those three little words.Soulmate AU in which your soul mate's name appears on your wrist the first time they say "I love you" to you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AU in which your soul mate's name appears on your wrist the first time they say "I love you" to you
> 
> Also, there is no set universe for this story. It combines elements of the comics, the 90's movies, the lego renditions, the whole 9 yards. 
> 
> Enjoy! ♤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU in which your soul mate's name appears on your wrist the first time they say "I love you" to you
> 
> Also, let it be noted that this doesn't take place in any singular batman universe, but every batman universe. Except the 60s.

Tied to a chair, the Batman struggled in his bonds as his self-proclaimed "arch nemisis" made a show of flirting with him. Gloved hands stroked up his face as the Joker whispered a mixture of sweet nothings and thinly veiled threats into his ear. Batman sighed. He'd called for backup when he entered the abandoned warehouse, but that was hours ago. He assumed that his communications had been cut off, or that Gotham's police force was being characteristically slow. Either way, he was in it for the long run. Ignoring whatever monologue the clown had spun into behind him, he spat out a question that had been on his mind for quite some time.

"What's your fixation with me?"

Joker's trademark grin fell to a look of utter confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why are you so _obsessed_ with me?"

"Well that's very simple, Batsy. I _like_ you. I find you interesting, and frankly quite funny. I mean, here's a grown man who dresses as a bat and beats up the mentally ill for a living, all the while holding himself on a pedestal, when really-" Joker gripped Batman's chin, his absinthe green eyes shining. "You're no different than the rest of us lunatics." He released him, cackling like a pack of hyenas.

Batman rolled his eyes under the cowl. That was the answer he usually got. There was a time when he would have accepted that and moved on, but that was years ago. This had gone on too long for him to believe that was the case.

"Are you sure that in that twisted mind of yours, you haven't convinced yourself that you're in love with me?"

The cackling escalated until the clown was practically howling with laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye before speaking. 

"Oh my, that is _rich_! Batman thinks that I'm in _love_ with him! That- that is one for the books!" Joker giggled."I mean, I figured you were absolutely _desperate_ for attention, obviously, anyone who spends their evenings touring Gotham in a bat costume wants to be admired-" He moved closer to the masked hero, grabbing the arms of the chair and leaning in so close that their noses were nearly touching "But to think that you were so starved that you delusioned yourself into thinking that I _love_ you?! Why, just the very idea is-"

A searing pain lit up across Batman's wrist, and he winced. This was an...unexpected outcome. He opened his eyes, to find that Joker had distanced himself quite dramatically, now standing across the room from him. His sleeve was rolled up, and he was looking at the letters now etched across his wrist with utter horror. There was a long, unsettling silence before he finally spoke. 

"...Bruce Wayne, eh?" Joker's voice is strained. "I always knew you were hiding something." 

Bruce said nothing. He didn't know what he could say that would fix this situation. He wished he hadn't pushed the envelope. Then, this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have to worry about his identity being compromised, he and the Joker could have just kept this up until they killed each other, and best of all, he wouldn't have to live his life knowing that the Joker was his soulmate.

"This isn't fun anymore." Joker sighed, looking forlornly out the window. He crossed to the chair and untied Bruce's bonds. "You win this one, Batman. Or is it Bruce, now? Ah, I don't suppose it matters anyway. I'll be going back to Arkham, and you'll sweep me under the rug, because it's not like I have any reason to escape anymore." 

Bruce got to his feet slowly. He wasn't sure whether Joker was talking to him or not anymore. He knew that he should probably leave, but he found himself unable to move. Instead, he just stood there, unspeaking. 

"Or maybe, I'll get lucky. They’ll send me straight to the chair, and you won't have to deal with me ever again."

There was something deeply unsettling to him about the other's tone of voice. Bruce reached for his shoulder. 

"Joker I-"

"Just leave, Bruce."

If Batman was even half as strong as people believed him to be, he would have objected. But the fact of the matter is, he wasn't. He turned and left, stopping briefly to look back as the clown sank to his knees on the warehouse floor, before vanishing into the night.

*****

Bruce held his breath as he removed his gauntlets, preparing himself for the sight. The fresh script on his wrist was a shocking purple, letters spelling a name he'd never even seen before. 

_Jack Napier_

He glared down at his soulmark. Of _course_ it's purple. He ran his fingers across it tentatively, as if the action might kill him. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, causing Bruce to nearly jump out of his skin.

"Master Bruce? Are you alright?" Alfred's worried voice said from behind the door. 

"I'm fine, Alfred." He replies curtly. 

"Alright then. In any case, I've made you some soup." The butler insisted.

Bruce knew that he wouldn't get away with hiding from Alfred for very long. It was probably for the best that he just get it over with.

"You can come in." He said.

The door turned, and Alfred entered the bedroom, setting a silver tray down on the bedside table.

"Master Bruce, if I may ask, did something...happen out there tonight?"

 _There it is._ Bruce thought to himself. He didn't respond. He didn't know how to even approach the subject.

"Master Bruce?"

"It happened, Alfred."

"...what happened?" Alfred asked, worry increasing. 

"My soulmark." Bruce admitted, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

"Oh thank goodness." Alfred sighed, sitting on the bed beside him. Bruce shot him a glare. 

"I apologize, Master Bruce. For a minute I thought you were confessing to murder."

The glare intinsified. 

"...Might I ask what happened?"

Bruce rolled up his sleeve slightly, revealing the purple lettering. "It's _him_ Alfred." He sighed

Alfred's eyes widened in realization.

"It's the Joker." 

Alfred took a moment's pause before speaking. "Oh dear." He took a deep breath. "I can't say I didn't see this coming, however, I had hoped for your sake that it would not be the case.... Master Bruce? Might I give you a bit of advice?"

"Why not. You're going tell me anyway."

"Whatever you decide to do, just remember that that mark is permanent."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you choose to take away from it." Alfred said, moving to leave. "Good night, Master Bruce."

"Good night, Alfred."

Bruce doesn't get much sleep that night. He decides to pay the Commissioner a visit tomorrow to help put his worries to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joker backstory notes: I stole the name from the 89 Batman dir. By Tim Burton, but his tragic backstory is from the Killing Joke.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce Wayne turned his billionaire charm on full blast as he sauntered through the door of the police station. He'd intended to go under the cover of darkness as Batman, but Alfred's cryptic warning haunted him. As he made his way to the Commissioner's office, it occurred to him that as Bruce Wayne, he didn't have a reason to be asking after the Joker. He had to come up with an excuse, and fast.

"Mr. Wayne, what brings you to my office?" Jim Gordon asked from across his desk.

"I've recieved some threats recently from either the Joker himself or someone in his crime syndicate. I was wondering if you'd heard anything from him lately?" Bruce said, calmly. 

"Not one laugh for months. I can put you under surveillance, if you'd like, Mr. Wayne." Jim offered. "Can you tell me anything about these threats?"

"I'm afraid they're of a... sensitive nature to me, Commissioner. I'm not too concerned about them at the moment, but thank you for your offer." He said with a smile.This meant that Joker hadn't been arrested last night, which meant that he was going to be that much harder to track down.

_Or maybe I'll get lucky. They'll send me straight to the chair._

The memory sent a chill down Bruce's spine, and cold dread pooled in his stomach. He needed to find the Joker, and fast. He rose from his chair.

"Thank you for this, Commissioner, but I have to go. Please keep me posted." Bruce waved, his sleeve falling just a bit.

The police Commissioner went pale. "Mr. Wayne! Wait!" He called.

"Yes?"

"I know this is personal, but please, tell me- how long have you had your soulmark?"

"Well. Uh. Not that long, actually." Bruce blushed, inwardly panicking. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Jack Napier has been a missing person for 15 years now." Gordon said gravely. "If you've seen him, then he's not dead, like we assumed. Do you know where he is?"

Bruce opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. "Uh, no. Not a clue. To tell you the truth, I didn't even know the guy. I get declarations of love all of the time, it was shouted at me in a crowd, and then _bam_. Jack Napier."

It was a shoddy excuse, and he knew that, but he hoped it would suffice. He made a note to ask for the files on the Napier case later.

"Right. Right. I'm sorry about that." Jim said. He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We're going to find him, okay?"

Bruce smiled wanly. "Thank you, Commissioner. You have a good day."

As Bruce walked down the steps of the police station, he fretted over his situation. If the police ever discovered that Jack Napier was the Joker, then the question would arise; what was Bruce Wayne doing with the Joker's name on his wrist? Conclusions would be drawn. He felt like he'd been branded. 

****

That night, he revels in being the Batman. The suit and gauntlets that cover his soulmark, the cowl that obscures his face. No one has to know. His leads have taken him to an abandoned factory on the edge of town. It's a drab, dingy place, and for a second he thinks he has the wrong address. Nothing about this is Joker. There's no calliope, no lights, not even a speck of color. Just an eerie stillness that washed over the whole place. Cautiously, he entered the building. 

The inside is just as dreary as the out. His footfalls echo in the halls, the only sound save for a steady drip from a leak in the roof. He doesn't know where he's going. Usually there's clues; painted arrows, blood trails, distant laughter, cards, _something_. But there's nothing. Just an overwhelming sense of wrongness. He tries to alleviate his concern by telling himself that every other time he'd been invited, wheras now he'd gone looking for the Joker. It didn't help.

Walking in the damp darkness of the factory, full of dread and without a clue as to where he’s going Bruce felt as blind as, well, a Bat. His foot crunched on a loose tile, and he heard a sharp gasp from a room down the hall. He rushed to the room, heart pounding loudly in his ears. 

The room was spacious, rows of upturned tables lined it, paintbrushes and broken glass, bits of paper and genral rubbish littered the floor. The large windows are blown out, and a soft breeze wafted through the gaping hole. A patch of moonlight illuminated an oversized Lazy boy chair that looked as though it had survive a tornado, but just barely. In the chair, a figure sat looking frail and small in comparison to the surroundings.

"Joker?" Batman called, and his voice echoed along the length of the room 

"Hello, Batsy." The Joker said softly. He didn't move, he just sat staring out the window.

Cautiously, Bruce approached the chair, the litter crinkling under his feet. "We need to talk."

"You know, this was a watch factory in the 1920s. Very busy place. Thousands of watches produced daily." Joker croaked. "This room was where they painted the watch faces."

"Joker, I'm serious."

"So is radium poisoning. Girls would come in, and paint the watches, and their nails and lips, and then go home and put the stuff in their water to help with everything from an ugly mug to the aches they felt in their joints. Slowly and painfully, their bones crumbled underneath them."

"Joker."

"Of course, it's mostly gone by now. But I'd be careful if I were you. Radium is nasty, resilient stuff. "

"Are you okay?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because I'm worried about you."

The Joker chuckled dryly. "I'm the comedian in this relationship, sweetheart."

"I'm serious, damn it!" Bruce shouted, spinning the chair to face him. The Joker stared up at him, eyes wide. "I didn't ask for this either. You can't wallow in your self loathing like you're the only one who's suffering because of this."

"You don't want me." Joker said darkly.

Bruce's blood boiled at the statement. He wanted to punch something. "You don't get to tell me how I feel."

"Well, what am I supposed to assume, _Bruce_?" Joker spat, sitting up in the chair. Evidently he'd hit a nerve. "That a man who takes pleasure in kicking the shit out of me once a week, who never tossed me a bone once in 14 years, who wanted nothing more than to sweep me under the rug of Arkham Asylum like a used tissue is suddenly head over heels in love with me because my name is on his wrist?!"

Bruce blinked in surprise. "God...you really think that, don't you?" He whispered. 

"Well what else have I got to think?"

"Are you telling me that not once in 14 years did you ever think that maybe the reason I keep coming back, that I don't have you back to Arkham for _months_ despite knowing full well where you are, that I never let anyone, _anyone_ take you down but me, was because I might love you too? Because I did. I thought that all the time, and you know what? It scared the shit out of me. But now, I can't really avoid it, can I?" Bruce said. Something about the confession hurt him. It cemented it. Made it real for him. "There is no Batman without the Joker."

Joker looked at him for a moment, as though he was processing the words. He put his head in his hands, making soft sounds that Bruce initially mistook for laughter. "Fuck you." He choked out. "You know, Batsy, it's getting hard to tell which one of us is the villian. I've done some pretty fucked up things, but at least I don’t kick a man when he's down." He looked up, his green eyes sparkling with anger and tears, and Bruce's heart ached.

Bruce grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, and kissed him. He wasn't sure why, it just felt like the right thing to do. Joker tensed beneath him in surprise, but soon wrapped his arms around his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his cape. Bruce moved his arms around Joker's waist deepening the kiss. Experimentally, he swiped his tongue across the clown's bottom lip. With that, the Joker finally seemed to accept him, lips opening to allow Bruce to lick the inside of his teeth as though he were one of the debutants the millionare was notorious for deflowering. He wrapped his legs around the Bat, vaguely aware of being lifted out of the chair. Bruce pulled away, panting.

They stood there a moment, the Joker in Batman's arms, looking into one another's eyes. Joker pressed their foreheads together, cupping Bruce's face in his hands.

"....I love you." He whispered.

"I know." Bruce replied. "I love you too."

He sets Joker on his feet, moving a stray lock of green hair from his face. 

"I don't want to leave you here." He adds, looking at the factory, and briefly wondering the rate of decay for radium. He'd look it up later.

"What are you going to do? Take the Joker back to the Batcave and treat him as as housegest?" Joker grinned half-heartedly. 

"Well, that was the plan." Bruce said, removing his cowl. "However, the cave isn't the best place to stay. The mansion above it is much better furnished."

The Joker looked at him with shock in his eyes. "Oh my god. You really _are_ Bruce Wayne!" He exclaimed.

Bruce laughed heartily. "Yeah. I am. Shall we go?" He offered his arm.

Joker took it, leaning into Bruce's muscled shoulder. "Fine, but _you're_ making breakfast in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to learn more about radium poisoning? Here you go!
> 
>  http://www.messynessychic.com/2015/07/02/the-radium-girls-and-the-generation-that-brushed-its-teeth-with-radioactive-toothepaste
> 
> Betcha didn't expect to learn stuff in a gay fanfic! ♤


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay! New chapter! And featuring my favorite Batman villain, too. Another time to mention that there is no singular Batman universe for this fic. This chapter borrows elements from the Telltale games, Joel Schumacher's film Batman Forever, and as usual, the comics, but is also a universe of my own creation.
> 
> Have fun! ♤

Bruce knew that he wasn't going to get far with the Commissioner. At least, not without arousing suspicion. So that morning, as Jack Napier slept in his bed upstairs, he called up an old friend and arranged a lunch date. He flipped the omelette in his pan for a second time. The last attempt sat in the trash can, scorched beyond belief. It was a miracle that Alfred hadn't kicked him out of the kitchen at that point.

"My, my. I hadn't actually expected you to go though with the breakfast request. Especially not with a butler like yours."

Bruce turned to see the Joker leaned against the kitchen island behind him, dressed in a slightly too big purple button down and Batman symbol socks. He plated the omelette and set it in front of him. 

"I'm a man of my word, Jack."

Joker scowled at him. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" Bruce asked, handing him a fork.

"That's not who I am anymore."

Something in his tone told Bruce that continuing with this line of questioning would get him hurt. Instead, he poured them both some coffee. 

"Thank you, darling." Joker sighed, taking a long swig of his coffee. 

"You're welcome, J." Bruce said, the nickname rolling off of his tongue without a second thought.

"Now _that_ I like."

It was strange, being like this. Being domestic. Especially with a known criminal who should likely be in prison right now instead of Bruce's kitchen sipping coffee and looking at him as though he hung the stars. It just wasn't right. He should be turning him in, not thinking about running his fingers through his messy green locks. And he definitely shouldn't be pressing him against the island and kissing him. Yet, here he was, doing just that. He lifted the clown onto the granite counter top, fingers darting underneath the purple button down to leave bright red scratch marks across pale white flesh. The Joker moaned beneath him and-

"Achem."

The two seperated quickly, heads whipping around to look guiltily at the butler who'd interrupted them. Bruce backed away significantly, but Joker stayed seated on the counter as though there was nothing unusual about it at all.

"Do excuse me for interrupting, Master Bruce, but if you stand any chance of making your lunch appointment with Mr. Dent, you should start getting ready now." Alfred said calmly. 

"Thanks Alfred." 

Alfred gave a very slight bow and left the room.

"A lunch date with Mr. Dent? Why, Brucie baby, are you _two_ -timing me?" Joker asked, giggling at his own joke.

"I have some questions about an old case, and Harvey is an old friend of mine who just so happens to have the answers." Bruce assured, taking the dishes to the sink. 

"I take it Harvey has no idea that you're Batman."

"Not a clue. If he ever found out, he'd kill me twice."

"Say, Buddy boy, which of us is the Joker?"

"Um. You?"

"Let's keep it that way, shall we?" Joker said, ruffling Bruce's hair. "I don't suppose you're planning on leaving me here with Jeeves, are you?"

"Actually, yes." Bruce smiled. "I mean, unless you'd prefer Arkham."

Joker opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, resorting to pouting instead. Knowing the case was closed, Bruce retired to his room to get ready. 

******

Bruce had a feeling that he was going to regret giving the Joker free reign of his home for the afternoon, but that was a thought that would simply have to wait. He parked the Indian in the side alley. If the bike was stolen, well, he had another 2 in the garage at the manor. The diner was a classic greasy spoon, fifties memorabilia adorning the walls, Elvis Presley crooning love songs on the jukebox, a waitress with a perm wiping down tables, and in a booth in the corner, one of Gotham's most wanted criminals sat finishing up a cigarette.

"Hey Harv." Bruce greeted, sliding into the booth across from him. "How's the crime business working out for you?"

"Boring as hell." Harvey replied, crushing out his cigarette. "Tell me you didn't call me here to talk shop."

"Well, yes and no." Bruce picked up a menu, looking over it without really reading it. "It's about a case. An old one. Ever hear the name Jack Napier?"

Harvey's eyes widened in recognition. "I might have. Bruce, what's this about?" He looked across the table suspiciously. 

Bruce rolled up his sleeve cautiously. If handling this meant giving Harvey leverage, then so be it. He presented the purple script to the former DA. 

"Well, that _certainly_ wasn't there in college." Harvey grinned.

"It's new. One of my doting fans called it out at the Gotham Car Show I had to attend last month. Commissioner Gordon freaked when he caught sight of it a week ago. He won't tell me anything beyond the fact that Jack's been on the missing persons list for 15 years."

"And you figured your old pal Harv might be able to shed some light on the situation?" Harvey said, flagging down the waitress.

"That's what I was hoping."

"Well, listen Bruce. We'd love to help you out, but we don't do favors. Can't afford it in our line of work. What's in it for us?" Harvey said after they'd placed their orders. 

"I just gave you leverage over Bruce Wayne; one of the most influential men in Gotham, may I remind you?"

Harvey laughed heartily, startling the patrons across from them. "Bruce, if I wanted to take you out through the rumor mill, I'd just let Vicki Vale know that you used to let Twoface toss your salad."

"That was a long time ago, Harvey. You weren't even out of law school." Bruce said defensively. 

"That's not how the public would see it. But, the point is: I don't need dirt on you. I already know everything, and what I don't I can always have Eddie fish out for me if I so desired."

"Yeah, that's right. You and the Riddler are working together now aren't you? That's an...odd combination. How'd that come about?"

"Let's just say you aren't the only one with new ink." Harvey said with a glare. "Let's stay on topic, shall we?"

"Right, right. What's your price?" Bruce backtracked. For a second, he'd almost forgotten that Harvey was...changed. It was almost like old times. But even beyond his scarred face, he was different. He tried not to think to hard on it. 

"In addition to footing this bill, I need you to fund a little side project of mine. Don't worry, it's nothing illegal. I know you hate to get your hands dirty." Harvey said as the waitress set their food down.

"What 'side project' is this?" Bruce asked with concern as he cut into his pancakes. 

"I'll tell you after your first payment. About the project _and_ Napier. Because, quite frankly, we like you Bruce." Harvey said.

"Fine. When and where?"

"Hmm. The boardwalk at sunset tomorrow." Harvey said. "That is, unless you've got a hot date, playboy." 

"Not with _this_ I don't. Nobody likes to fancy themselves a homewrecker." Bruce joked, gestured towards his wrist. 

"Ha. Don't we know it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Look! I updated! This one uses elements from the Killing Joke. Emily is a name I assigned to a character, as she did not have one. This one is totally self indulgent.
> 
> Enjoy! ♤

A small part of him died inside every time he talked to Harvey. Bruce knew that he'd done all he could to help him, but deep down he supposed there would always be a part of him that felt responsible for Harvey's condition. At least, he supposed, the Indian was in the alley where he'd left it. He straddled the bike and drove off towards Wayne Manor. 

He was only a little surprised to find the mansion the same as when he'd left. Some part of him thought that he'd come home to find the manor redecorated in the Joker's image and crawling with goons, poor Alfred held captive somewhere. Instead, it was oddly calm. He walked in the front door, to utter silence. 

"Alfred?" He called out

"Welcome home, Master Bruce." Alfred greeted, walking in from the silver closet. "How did the meeting go?"

"About as well as I expected. How's our guest?" Bruce asked, shrugging off his leather motorcycle jacket. 

"He's in the Library, busying himself with your record collection." 

"Really? I admit, I thought that by now, he'd have grown tired of the manor." Bruce chuckled

"Yes, well he is the Joker. Being unpredictable is his specialty." Alfred said, taking the jacket. 

Bruce thanked him before heading to the library. He could hear swing music all the way down the hall. The once familiar sound drew forth long dead memories; his mother teaching him to dance, her skirt swishing in time to the music, his father laughing, picnics in the library on rainy days. He found himself smiling in spite of the lingering sadness in the once happy memory.

He opened the doors to the library to find records stacked on every surface, apparently organized, though by what guidelines he had no clue, and in the middle of it all, the Joker, dancing a bit and continuing to pull records off the shelves.

"I see you took the liberty of reorganizing the record collection while I was gone." Bruce commented, trying to find a way around the miniscule towers of vinyl. 

"Yes. I also wrote on your mirrors in lipstick. Alfred's only found 2, so far." Joker said, not looking up from the shelf. "You know, I never pegged you for a swing dancer, Bats."

"I'm not. Those were my mother's." Bruce clarified, picking up a record. Billie Holiday. His father's preference.

"Well, that explains the truly pathetic lack of any rock. Seriously, not even little Richard?!" Joker muttered to himself, clearing off another shelf. 

"Mom was a bit more...old fashioned. She and my father could never agree on music. Except the blues." Bruce explained, placing the record back on the shelf.

"Wait- was that Billie Holiday?"

"Yes?"

"Gimme!" The Joker said with renewed excitement. Bruce relented and handed the record over to the who giggled excitedly as he switched the records. After a couple seconds of static, Ms. Holiday's voice filled the room. 

_I say I'll move the mountains, and I'll move the mountains, if he wants them out of his way._

"I love this song." Joker sighed dreamily. He began to sing along as he shelved the stacks of records in no particular order.

_Crazy he calls me- sure, I'm crazy! Crazy in love, I'd say._

Bruce watched him with a smile. It had been forever and a day since he'd last heard this song. He remembered his mother singing it, but in what context, he hadn't a clue. That had been so long ago. "So. Is this what you listen to?" He asked

"Darling, my music tastes are as eclectic as my personality." Joker chuckled. He turned to Bruce and held out his arms. "Dance with me, Brucie." 

Bruce hesitated. He'd never been a gifted dancer, even with the private lessons and constant galas. The Joker pulled him in close and placed an arm around his waist. It appeared, as usual, that he didn't have a choice in the matter. He sighed inwardly, thankful that he at least wasn't leading. Joker continued to sing as he twirled them around the library, gracefully avoiding the stacks of records and managing to keep enough distance between them that Bruce didn't step on his toes.

"Where did you learn to dance?" Bruce asked 

"The french ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Ms. Porter's. And you?" Joker smiled. 

"J, that's a line from Rent."

"So it is." 

It became clear to Bruce that he wasn't going to get much further along that line of questioning.

"My mother." He supplied

"Hmn?" Joker looked at him curiously. 

"My mother. She taught me how to dance."

"Oh! Well, she did a terrible job. However-" Joker dipped him low to the ground, and Bruce was surprised that such a slender man could manage such a feat, let alone as smoothly as he had. "perhaps you're just a terrible learner."

Joker kissed him then. It was passionate, and deep, and Bruce was completely dizzy with it, although whether that was from the kiss itself or the blood rushing to his head, he couldn't tell. He moved his hand to tangle in the clown's hair. When he was finally righted, he was absolutely breathless. 

From the doorway, Alfred looked on with a smile. He hadn't expected Bruce Wayne in all his stubborness to actually _do_ anything about his situation. He hoped that this was a sign that Bruce was finally beginning to let people in again. Alfred decided that that alone was worth cleaning a thousand lipstick smudged mirrors.

*****

Bruce watched his partner sleep. He noticed that Jack Napier had a habit of talking in his sleep. Nothing big, just little things. Apologies, jokes, names. The name Emily, in particular. He wondered what it meant, if it meant anything at all. 

He ran his fingers through Joker's hair, marvelling at how soft it was. Bruce wanted to believe that what he was doing the right thing by investing Napier's dissappearance, but some part of him was saying that he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

Bruce got out of the bed and walked to the window. He was used to being restless at night, and was honestly surprised he hadn't worn a hole in the carpet. The soft click of the door opening interrupted his train of thought.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice whispered in the darkness. 

"Yes?"

"It's the Riddler. The Commissioner called."

"Right. Just the Riddler?" Bruce enquired 

"Yes sir."

"Trouble in paradise." Bruce chuckled. 

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's nothing, Al. I'll suit up and head out." 

Batman headed out to save the city once again. The crime is already completed by the time he arrives on scene. It's a jewelry store robbery. Nothing stolen except a diamond ring and a tiara. Nothing left except a cryptic note on bi colored paper. Definitely a statement. It's open and close. Batman promises to look for the stolen goods, and Bruce Wayne decides to reimburse the jewelry store. Edward can keep whatever pretty little trinkets he took.

Batman rolled his eyes under the cowl on the way home. Leave it to him to get involved in the middle of a supervillain lover's spat. He just hoped that he could get out of it as fast as he could. This mess was like a chinese finger trap; the more he tried to escape it, the worse it got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you there will be plot next chapter. For now, I hope you enjoyed our interlude in which Bruce is nervous and cute, Joker is smooth af, Edward Nygma is a drama queen, and Alfred just wants some gofdamn peace and quiet. 
> 
> Here's the link to the song used: 
> 
> https://youtu.be/_mitLcbHHz8


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another update!! And with REAL PLOT!!! This chapter doesn't use specific enough source material for me to bother listing it for you. However, it does include original elements that I'll explain. In this universe, the rogues gallery are reluctant friends that have mandatory get togethers. 
> 
> That's all folks! ♤

The next day, Bruce wakes to an empty bed and a Joker card on his pillow. There's no note, and when questioned, Alfred denies having seen anything. Bruce hadn't expected them to just move in with one another right off the bat, but he also hadn't expected the Joker to just up and leave. Especially after having spent 2 days in the manor, acting like he owned the place. However, any hurt he felt over it was drowned out by an intense worry.

Soulmate or not, the Joker was a villain and he knew Batman's identity. Bruce wanted to trust him with that knowledge, but the Joker was...unpredictable at best. He figured the best he could do was keep an eye on things until he was certain that his identity was safe.

Bruce unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. The docks weren't exactly a place where one wanted to look rich, although his face was probably enough of a giveaway. He could handle himself. 

"Master Bruce? Shall I bring the car round?" Alfred asked through the door.

"Yes. Thank you Alfred."

Bruce arrived at the docks moments before sunset. He would have gotten there sooner, had he trusted the area enough to park. Now, he stood at the end of a pier watching the sunset reflect off of the bay. This time of day was partly why tourists still bothered to pass through the most crime ridden city in the world. Gotham's sunsets weren't something to miss....so long as you cleared out soon afterwards. 

"Hey Bruce." Harvey said from behind him. "I gotta be honest, we weren't expecting you to show."

"When have I ever stood you up?" Bruce smiled, greeting Harvey with a brisk hug. 

"Never, as far as I can remember. You always were the punctual one." Harvey laughed. 

"Alright, Harv. What is this 'totally legal side project' of yours, and what does it have to do with Edward?"

"Who said it had anything to do with Eddie?" Harvey said defensively

"Well, the newspaper was very thorough in its description. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you've been put in the doghouse." Bruce rolled his eyes. 

Harvey sighed. "I know. And yeah, it's about Ed."

"When's the wedding?" Bruce grinned. 

"I'm not proposing!" Harvey sputtered. "Not yet, at least. He likes surprises. No, what I have in mind is a bit...pricier than a wedding."

"Out with it, Harv. I'd like to get back to my car before it's stolen"

"I want to build a library."

Bruce was surprised. Gotham's public library had been raized in the Scarecrow's last arrest, and the city had been in desperate need of one since. But Harvey hadn't done anything productive for the community since...well, since the accident.

"Look Bruce, I know that we haven’t got the greatest track record, but this is really important to us. You see, during our last stint at Arkham-"

"I'll do it."

"Beg pardon?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll finance your library." Bruce smiled. "Gotham needs a new one, and if you’re excited about it, then it's worth it. Now, what do you have on Jack Napier?"

"Here." Harvey shoved a manilla folder into his hands. "It's all there is on the case."

"Harvey, did- did you steal this?" Bruce stuttered worriedly. 

Harvey laughed. "No. Well, not _technically_. We might have made some illegal copies of case files before we left the DA's office for a padded cell at Arkham."

"Goddammit Harv." Bruce sighed. 

"Do you want it or not?"

"I'll take it." Bruce glared at him "But don't pull a stunt like this again."

"I wouldn't dream of it. This is far below my skill level now. " Harvey smiled. "Thank you, Bruce. You've always been a great friend to me. A lot better than I deserve. "

"That's bullshit."

"I mean it. Thank you. And good luck finding Jack. "

"Thanks. Good luck kissing Edward's ass." Bruce said with a playful shove

"Oh shut up." 

Bruce turned and began his trek to the car. It was dark now, the city's streets dimly lit by street lights and whatever moonlight could filter through the dense smog. Miraculously, he isn't mugged on his way to the car. Even more so, the car is exactly where he left it, and without so much as a scratch. This fills Bruce with a sense of unease. The city is never so quiet. Still, he hops in and drives back to the manor. 

***************

Immediately upon arrival, He informs Alfred that he'll be taking his supper in the batcave. The manilla folder burns hot in his hand as the private elevator descends to the cave below the manor. He sits in front of the bat computer, laying it out on the desk in front of him. 

It's all here. This illegally obtained folder contains all there is to know about the dissappearance of Jack Napier. So many questions could be answered. And yet, Bruce finds himself hesitating. 

He remembers the night their soulmarks appeared, and the nights after. His soulmate's resolve crumbling and giving way to fear and doubt. The tentative, yet passionate first kiss. The bright green eyes that shone with a melancholy mixture of love and defeat. The black letters that spelled out Bruce's own name across a chalk white wrist.

Bruce sighs. He can't do this. He can't betray what little of the Joker's trust he has undeservingly been given. Sure, he was scared of what might happen should the police force or, hell even the rogues discover that Jack Napier was the Joker, but that really didn't justify invading the poor man's privacy. He places the folder on a side table across from him for later.

His brooding is interrupted by a shrill ring from the batphone. Bruce rushes to answer it, expecting another emergency. 

"Commissioner?!" He answers. There is a slience on the line for that unnerves him.

".....No, not quite." A hoarse voice says on the other line. 

"Joker? How did you get this number?"

"That's not important. I'm sorry for not explaining myself."

"Did you...did you just apologize to me?

"Yes. Don't get used to it. I had to leave before the peanut gallery figured out I wasn't in back in Arkham. Harleen tells me that I should have left a note."

"Does she know?" Bruce asked, concern lacing his tone. 

"Oh _hell_ no. I just told her that I found a new beau, I didn't say who it was." He took a deep breath "Look, I know you don't have much reason to, but you can trust that I'll keep your identity safe. After all, my life would be utterly ruined if anyone found out"

" _Your_ life would be ruined?"

"That's what I said." He chuckled "I have to go now, Bats. This was my last quarter, and I'm due at game night in 15 minutes. Don't try to find me."

"No promises. Don't call this number anymore."

"No promises."

Joker hung up, leaving Bruce in the cave's dark silence. His mind wandered back to the manilla folder and the secrets it contained, and he promptly decided that it would be best for him to go back upstairs and put himself a safe distance from its temptation. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo! New chapter. And plot progression! This chapter uses Joker's backstory from the Killing Joke, and Killer Croc's backstory from the Hush storyline. 
> 
> Enjoy! ♤

The batphone rings for a second time around 1 am. It's the Commissioner this time. Killer Croc has made an escape from Arkham, and the force needs help tracking him down and bringing him back in before he can cause any trouble. Batman suited up and headed out, eager for the distraction. Nothing like getting a bite taken out of you to take your mind off of things.

Croc didn't take much time to find. He's not smart, by any means, and if it weren't for the fact that his condition made him a superhuman scaly cannibalistic nightmare, Batman wouldn't be needed at all. However, that was not the case. When Batman arrived on scene, one of the newer recruits had a sizeable chunk bitten out of her arm and her partner appeared unconscious, leg broken backwards at the knee. At one point, Bruce might have been disturbed by the sight, but he was used to it now. 

He finds Waylon not far from the injured officers, gnawing on the brutalized carcass of a dog. He's so far gone at this point that Bruce is certain the doctors at Arkham have given up on him. Hell, even the rogues had given up on him. Croc had become more animal than man. A younger Bruce would have tried to talk him down, to bring him to his senses before resorting to violence. Now, he decides his best chance is to catch him off guard and take him down fast. Bruce pulls out the tranquilizer gun he'd had made especially for situations like this, and aims at Waylon's thigh.

He made a mistake with the dosage. Waylon howled in pain and then turned on him, blind rage in his eyes. Croc lunged at him, and Batman barely had time to dodge. A well placed kick to the knee brought him down, but Waylon's claws snagged in his cape, dragging him to the pavement right along with him. Bruce knew he was at a disadvantage and hurried to get back to his feet. Croc sank his teeth into Batman's calf, and he cried out. Shit. He'd need stitches, if he even made it out of this. Claws dig into his hip and he's dragged back to the ground. Bruce's hand flies to his utility belt searching for anything to defend himself. His hand closes around his batarang. It likely won't do much damage this close, but it's the best he can do.

He's preparing to throw it, when from behind him comes a sickening crunch. The teeth and claws release him, and Batman quickly got to his feet, wincing at the pressure on his injured leg. He turned to see none other than the Joker, using his bloodied cane to roll Waylon over with a look of disgust. Bruce stared at him incredulously.

"Well? Where's my applause?! I did just save Batman, after all." Joker giggled, stepping over the unconscious man.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce grunted through the pain. 

"A little birdie told me that Croc had flown the cuckoo's nest and was prancing through Gotham. Given the circumstances, I figured you'd be out here. I also assumed that you weren't up to date on his...affliction, and would try something like this. I simply couldn't bear to think of my precious Batsy being turned into an entrée." Joker swooned.

"Well, thank you." Bruce was loosing blood. A lot of it. He was starting to feel dizzy. "Cuff him for me." He handed Joker a set of handcuffs, sliding to the ground. 

"Bats, are you doing alright?" Joker asked worriedly

"I'd be better if you cuffed him."

Joker ignored him, moving closer to inspect his injuries. "Shit. We need to do something about this. Now. You don't happen to have a turniquet in that belt of yours, do you?"

"Joker, I told you to-"

"Shut up! These things won't hold him long anyway, now don't make me ask you again!"

"No. I don't have a turniquet."

"Fuck. Okay, that's fine. You're just going to owe me a new shirt. I'm sure you can afford it." Joker said, removing his jacket. He ripped off a rather thick strip of fabric from the bottom of it, and wrapped it around Bruce's bleeding leg as tightly as he possibly could. "Where's the batmobile? We're going to my place, you won't make it to yours."

"We can't do that." Bruce said weakly. He was suddenly very tired.

"FUCK Bruce! We don't have time to argue, now give me the damn keys and tell me where you parked!" Joker snapped. 

"Down the alley." Bruce said, retrieving the keys

Bruce couldn't remember getting in the car, or the ride. The last thing he was conscious of was being laid down on a lime green couch, slowly slipping into the dark. 

********

"Brucie baby? Are you dead?" Joker's voice is the first thing that reaches his ears.

"Yeah." He groaned. His head throbbed with pain and his mouth felt like a desert.

"Well stop it. It's terribly rude of you to go and die on me after I've taken such good care of you." Joker teased. 

"I guess I'd better come back to the land of the living, then." Bruce smiled wanly. 

"You're damn right, you better. After all, we wouldn't want your breakfast to go to waste."

"You made me breakfast?" Bruce asked, opening his eyes for the first time that morning. 

"Not quite." Joker sighed "I'm afraid you exhausted me with worry, honeycakes. I popped into the cafe down the lane and got us some danishes and coffee."

"That's fine. I like danishes and coffee." Bruce attempted to sit up, but was met with a hand on his chest. 

"Take it easy, Bats." Joker said warningly. "I don’t want you pulling out any stitches. That's some of my best work!" 

"Oh god. _You_ patched me up? I bet the thread's purple isn’t it?" Bruce joked.

"What do you take me for, Bruce? An idiot? Purple is so not your color. They're green."

Bruce admired him for a moment. The way his green hair had fallen across his face, the soft and gentle smile, so unlike his typical maniac grin, the way his slender white fingers curled around the coffee cup, the tender look in his vibrant eyes. 

"What are you looking at?" He asked, his smile widening. 

"What? Can't I admire my boyfriend without being interrogated?" Bruce smiled. 

Joker choked on his coffee. "Boyfriend? Careful, playboy, that sounds an awful lot like commitment." He said playfully, but his tone of voice carried an underlying note of worry.

" _This_ is a commitment" Bruce said, removing his gauntlet and flashing the purple letters.

Joker stiffened at the sight of the name. He brought his coffee cup to his lips again, hands visibly shaking. "So it is."

Bruce groaned in pain as he struggled to a sitting position. "J? Is there something I need to know?" He asks. His mind drifts back to the manilla folder in the batcave. 

"Maybe." Joker sighs. "It would be helpful if I knew what it was, though. What it _really_ was."

Bruce looked at him, thoroughly confused, and he reached for a danish. 

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid that didn't make much sense." Joker chuckled halfheartedly. "What I meant was- I don’t remember a damn thing from before the accident. Well, that's not entirely true. I remember many different things, and I haven't the foggiest which is the truth. I don't know if I got a dog for my tenth birthday, or if that's when my father left home or if he left home at all. But, Bruce, I think worst of all is- I'm scared. I'm terrified of this- of us, of you being my soulmate, and I have no idea if it's because I lost my wife and unborn child in a freak electrical accident, or if my only friend fell into a woodchipper, or if I watched my mother's murder from a linen closet." He had begun to tear up, and Bruce ached to comfort him.

"Joker...what if... what if I could help with your memory?" Bruce suggested hesitantly. He didn't know what the folder contained, or if it would be any help, but it was worth the effort. 

"How?" Joker scoffed. 

Bruce sighed, starting his story from the beginning. "Commissioner Gordon saw my soulmark, and recognized you as a missing persons case from 15 years ago. In light of this development, he reopened the case, putting both of our identities on the line. I met up with Harvey to see if he could give me any insight on your case. He gave me the entire case."

"So you already know everything there is to know, then?"

"No. I didn't read it." Bruce said, taking a bite of his danish.

"Why not?" Joker asked, genuinely confused

Bruce just shrugged. "We'll head back to the manor, and go through it together."

"Okay, but not before I look you over again"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complete backstory+ smut and tears next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex! Drama! Terrible coping mechanisms! All this and more in the chapter below. Heavy references are made to the Lego Batman Movie, and the Killing Joke. Also, I recently discovered that the Joker's wife DID have a name, and it's Jeannie, but fuck it! It's too late to change that now! 
> 
> Y'all have fun!♤

Bruce was in agony the entire drive back to the manor, but he wasn't going to let the Joker drive the batmobile again so long as he had something to say about it. That car was his baby. Alfred met him at the entrance to the batcave, worry etched in the lines of his face.

"Master Bruce! Oh thank god you're alive!" The Butler cries out as he stumbles out of the car. "When you didn't come home, and this morning's paper reported those poor officers injured and Jones gone- well, I'd feared the worst."

"I'm alright, Alfred. I stayed the night at a friend's place." Bruce reassured

"Oh, so I'm just a 'friend' now?" Joker said playfully, leaning against the hood of the batmobile. "Really, after I kissed all your boo boos and bought you breakfast? After I went through the trouble of carrying you up the stairs? After you bled all over my _suede_ couch?!" 

"Alright, I stayed the night at my _boy_ friend's place. Happy now?" Bruce snapped

"Ecstatic."

Alfred cleared his throat as if to remind them that he was still there. "Master Bruce, if it's alright with you, I'd like to give you a once over. From the sounds of it, you had a rather rough night."

"I'm fine."

Alfred gave him a skeptical look 

"Really, I am. Joker did an excellent job of stitching me up."

"May I at least persuade you not skip lunch today?" Alfred sighed defeatedly. 

"Sure. Thank you Alfred."

"Of course, master Bruce."

Alfred left them in the cool silence of the cave. Bruce crossed to the batcomputer, searching for the folder amidst the mess of his desk.

"You know, I never expected the batcave to be an actual _cave_. I always thought it was a cute little name you gave to your hideout." Joker said from the hood of the car. He never did like the quiet.

"Yeah. This cave has been here far longer than the Waynes. I'm just the first to make any use of it. Although, there are rumors about the cave having been used as an emergency bunker in the cold war, but no one's ever been able to confirm it." Bruce explained. "Here it is!"

Bruce put the manilla folder in the Joker's gloved hands. The gesture felt profound. It was almost as if he was handing him back his past. The Joker took it quietly, and stared at the cover for what seemed like ages.

"J? Are you-"

"I'm fine." He said firmly, and he opened the cover.

There was a long, weighty silence as he flipped through the pages. Even after he'd read the last one, he sat staring at them in what appeared to be disbelief.

".....well, that's sorted out then." Joker said, taking a ragged breath. He handed the folder back to Bruce with a pained grin. "Looks like it was the...electrocution accident after all." 

Bruce opened the folder. Staring straight back at him was a photograph of a plain, but attractive young woman. Emily Napier: Jack Napier's wife of 2 years. Died, along with their unborn child when a baby bottle warmer electrocuted her, just a few hours before Jack's dissappearance. A suspected suicide, although no body was ever found. 

"J...I'm so sorry.." Bruce said. He couldn't even imagine. 

"It's okay. That was 15 years ago, wasn't it?" 

Bruce didn't know what to say. He pulled the Joker into a hug, tucking his head under his chin. It was all he had to offer. Joker clung to him for dear life in return. He took to trembling, which Bruce had learned meant tears. Bruce kissed the top of his head. He'd never been good at offering comfort, or receiving it, for that matter, but he would do his best.

"Goodness, you must think me so silly." Joker sniffed against the kevlar suit. 

"Hardly. But then again, maybe you shouldn't be taking advice on grief from a person who copes with the loss of his parents through vigilante justice." Bruce sighed. 

"Was that a joke?" Joker asked, drying his eyes against his sleeve. Bruce shrugged. "No matter. You have a point. Perhaps I'm the sane one in this relationship." 

"That's taking it a little far, don't you think?"

"Oh, _do_ shut up. "

The Joker kissed him roughly, and Bruce could still taste the salt of his tears. He kissed back with a fiery passion, laying him down across the hood of the batmobile despite the surge of pain in his calf. Bruce had had much more...adventurous encounters in worse condition. He moved swiftly, undoing the buttons on the Joker's torn dress shirt with lighting precision as the clown fumbled with his cape, quite obviously looking for a way to get it off. Bruce caught his hands, gently biting his lip as he broke their kiss.

"How about I take you upstairs and show you how the top half comes off?" He offered.

"Why Bruce! How forward of you!" Joker played offended before breaking into an obscene grin. "I'd be delighted~"

*********

The door to the largest of the master bedrooms locked with a click as the couple kissed against it, hands roaming up and down bodies experimentally as they made their way to the bed. Bruce pushed the Joker onto the matress rather forcefully, and undid the clasps on the armoured torso of the batsuit. The thing fell away cape and all, leaving Bruce in his undershirt. 

"So that's how that works." Joker smiled, pulling the black tank top over Bruce's head. He pulled the billionaire onto the mattress with him, rolling over so that he was straddling his hips. Joker shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor where it lay in stark contrast on the black cape. He dragged his nails down Bruce's scarred chest, reveling in the sharp gasp it earned him. His hands stopped at the utility belt, undoing it with a click and sending it to the floor with the rest of their clothing. 

"You're going to want to get that." Bruce sighed, looking after the belt. 

"Why's that?"

"That's where I keep the condoms and lube."

"Why, Batsy!" Joker exclaimed climbing off of him and reaching for the belt. "How often do you get it on in costume?"

"Not that often." Bruce grinned. "At least, not anymore" 

"I hope you know that I'm expecting details after we're done." Joker said, handing Bruce the belt. Bruce fished out the aforementioned items and discarded the belt once more.

"Of course." Bruce said, hands moving to undo the Joker's fly. He pulled the purple slacks down as far as he could with the man straddling him, and his eyes widened in surprise. 

"What?" Joker asked, brow furrowed 

"I-I really wasn't expecting the...uh... the carpet to match the drapes." Bruce admitted with a nervous chuckle. 

"Oh goodness!" Joker burst into peals of laughter, collapsing onto the bed beside him. "This is the result of a chemical accident! It bleached my skin and for some reason, permanently turned my hair green. I mean, if it was just my hair, I'd understand the confusion, but did you actually think I went to the trouble to dye my eyebrows to match?"

"Well, you are rather eccentric." Bruce blushed.

"I hope it's not terribly off putting, darling." Joker said, sliding his pants down the rest of the way. 

"What's terribly off putting is how you won't stop talking." Bruce kissed him, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and tugging it down

"Now Batsy, that's _hardly_ fair! You're still half dressed!" Joker whined as Bruce began to kiss down his chest. Bruce ignored him, nipping at his sharp hip bones until they were covered in little purple bruises. His head dipped between pale thighs, hesitating for only a moment before taking him to the hilt.

The chattering above him quickly turned to breathy moans, and Bruce hummed contentedly around Joker's cock. Slender fingers found their way to Bruce's tousled hair, tugging gently as he bobbed up and down expertly. Abruptly Joker used his grip to pull Bruce off of him.

"You'll _definitely_ have to tell me where you learned _that_." He gasped breathlessly. 

"Boarding school." Bruce said, wiping his lips.

"Oh _Bruce_! You hound!" Joker smiled, moving forward to grip his pants.

"The shoes are part of the pants."

"I know! I had to figure out how to get these damn things off of you only last night, if you recall." Joker said with undisguised irritation as he began to unclasp the suit. It came away with as much ease as the top portion. 

"I was rather hoping you'd gone commando." Joker grimaced upon the sight of the black briefs. 

"Sorry. You can't imagine how that thing chafes." Bruce said, shrugging off the offending garment. "How do you want to do this?" 

"tsk. I'm going to ride you like the pony I never got for Christmas, obviously." Joker stated flatly. "I'm not exactly a top, sugar, and it would be such a shame for you to ruin my handiwork." He gestured to the fresh stitches. "Now-" he put his hand against Bruce's chest, pushing him flat against the mattress. "Lie back and enjoy this."

Joker ripped the condom packet open and rolled it on. Popping open the cap of the lubricant, he slathered the Bat's cock in it before lining up. 

"Wait hang on, don't you need to-"

"Nope." Joker sank down with a pained gasp. "I like the pain."

Bruce held him by the hips, resisting the urge to thrust up into him. "You're going to hurt yourself." 

"Oh Bats, that's rather the point." Joker grinned, rolling his hips. Bruce reluctantly removed his hands, and the Joker took the opportunity to keep things moving. He lifted his hips until Bruce was just barely inside him and then slammed them back down, drawing a loud groan from both of them. As the Joker bounced on his cock, Bruce's hands wandered up his thighs until they once more rested on his hips. He thrust upward into the feeling with abandon, relishing the ear splitting moans it drew from his soulmate. Bruce made the mental note to soundproof his bedroom for poor Alfred's sake. 

"Bruce, I'm not going to last much longer." Joker panted atop him 

Bruce, overwhelmed by pleasure, simply nodded in agreement as his thrusts became more erratic. His grip on the clown's hips tightened as their lovemaking drew to a close. They came almost simultaneously, Joker's cry of pleasure almost rattling the windows of the manor, before collapsing exhausted to the bed beside him. Bruce stood shakily and discarded the condom in the trash can by his bedside table. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"That was fun." Joker sighed blissfully. 

Bruce didn't say anything. He was too busy thinking. By all accounts, he should have been basking in the afterglow of his first time making love to his soulmate, but in his mind all he could see was the sad, faraway look on the Joker's face as he thumbed through the case file. 

"Bruce? Are you alright?"

"Jack, are we going to talk about this?" 

Joker stiffened at the name. "No. We aren't." He said coldly, rising to a sitting position. "I've just had a rather nasty reality check, and I don't much care for reality."

"You can't move on if you won't even acknowledge your grief." Bruce said briskly. 

"Don't you lecture me on grief! You have absolutely no right!" Joker spat. "You can't even move on from your parents' deaths and you think that _you_ can tell _me_ how to move on? I don't think you know a damned thing about moving on, _Batman_ , not one thing!" He hastily began to pick his clothes up of the floor. 

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean I can't help you!" Bruce barked from the bed as the Joker began to dress. 

" _Help_ me? And be the great hero? Drag me around to dinner parties like some kind of charity case? Make you feel better about the things you do in the dark?" The Joker broke into peals of strained laughter that reminded Bruce a bit of a spoon stuck in the garbage disposal. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't _want_ to be helped? That I don't want to be _saved_?"

"I don't think that's true."

"Oh, but it is. I am a coward, Bruce. I always have been. It's what made me the man I am today. I revel in the insanity, because underneath the act I'm perfectly and boringly sound of mind. Madness is like an emergency exit, Bruce. You don't have to remember your pain if you're utterly insane." 

"Joker-"

"I'm sorry, Batman, but I really must be off. Someone needs to explain to Harleen why our couch is covered in blood. I'll see you around." Joker interrupted, dashing for the door. He stopped for a moment and looked back, adding "You can read the file, if you'd like. It's of absolutely no consequence to me."

Bruce's bedroom door slammed. He listened to the angry footsteps as they grew further away, and the front door creaking shut. He sighed, picking up the pieces of the batsuit from the floor and attempting to straighten up the room a bit. He'd wash the sheets and take out the trash himself. That was technically Alfred's job, but even Bruce Wayne had limits.

Bruce flopped back onto the bed, feeling terribly sore and even more heartbroken. He thought about Jack Napier, the pale, kind faced comedian whose picture was in the case file and wondered at the stark contrast between him and the Joker, and resolved that, willing or not, he'd help his soulmate heal from the hurt he'd carried for a decade and a half.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short. Mostly because the next is going to be very long. Lots to cover. I feel like it should be stated that the design of the batcave is the one from 1995's Batman Forever. 
> 
> Have fun!♤

Gotham is quiet for another 2 days. 2 days without so much as a mugging. The entire city feels uneasy. Batman doubles his efforts in tracking down Killer Croc, but he's managed to hide himself well this time, only adding to the unease. Something was coming, and it was going to be big. 

Bruce was in the parlor, reading the newspaper and looking for any sign of the Joker. It wasn't like him to stay quiet this long, especially after significant emotional strain. Yet, there wasn't any sign of him, even in the classifieds, where he occasionally left notes for Batman.

"Master Bruce, do pardon my interruption, but you have a visitor." Alfred announced, walking into the room. 

Bruce turned in time to see none other than Harleen Quinzel plodding towards him in full Harley Quinn ensemble. He went into defensive mode immediately, suspecting the petite woman to be here on official business. 

"Alright, what did you _do_ to him?!" She asked before he could greet her, flopping into the chair across from him 

"I'm sorry?" Bruce asked, playing dumb. 

"Oh please, Mr. Wayne. I'm not an _idiot_. When my puddin' came home all mopey, I knew something had happened. He just snapped at me when I asked about it, so I figured I'd go ask the perpetrator." 

"I apologize, Dr. Quinzel, but I really don't understand."

She rolled her eyes at him and leaned in to him. "I know you're his soulmate, Mr. Wayne." She whispered 

"Harleen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't be. I just want to know what happened to my best _friend_ , to make him so upset." Harleen's blue eyes pierced through to his very soul, demanding answers. 

"Something came up. I wanted to talk about it, to help him through it, but he didn't really... appreciate the gesture." Bruce said, purposefully obscuring any detail. 

Harley sat back in her chair, looking around the manor.

"You know Mr. Wayne, this is a really swell place. Big. _Cavernous_ , almost. And that chandelier! Well you'd have to be absolutely _batty_ not to love something so darling." She said with an incriminating grin.

"Harleen...are you insinuating something?" Bruce asked, cold fear pooling like lead in his gut. 

"Of course I am, Batman." She said with a smile.

"I'm not Batman."

"Right, and I'm a mackerel." Harley got to her feet and began to walk the room. "Ya know, Mr. Wayne, you and I ain't so different. We both want what's best for Gotham, what's best for its people. Especially its villains. We just have different ways of going about it. You follow the rules, keep 'em in line, send 'em to Arkham Asylum with bloody noses and concussions, and I dedicate my time to giving them the love they never recieved, and the therapy sessions that Arkham likes to forget, and first aid when they need it. We're a real family, Bruce, the rogues and I. But as I'm certain you've figured out by now, I have a significant personal investment in the Joker's wellbeing. I won't go into detail as to my reasoning, because we'd be here all day, but he is my friend and I care about him. So, I'm going to ask you one more time, what happened?"

"Look, Harleen. I'd love to help you, but that information really isn't mine to share." Bruce persisted.

Harley sighed, crossing her arms. "Fine then. Be difficult. But it's going to absolutely destroy Harvey when he finds out that Bruce Wayne, his _best_ friend, has really been _Batman_ all along." She said with a triumphant grin. 

Bruce's eyes widened in horror. If Harvey found out, well, Bruce wasn't sure he'd recover from an emotional blow like that. "You wouldn't." He said, unconvinced. 

"I'm calling him now." Harley smiled wider, realizing she had the Bat exactly where she wanted him. Pulling out her phone, she dialed the number.

"Harleen, please! Harvey's unstable, you don't know what a blow like that could _do_ to him!" Bruce pleaded with her, although it sounded more like a command. 

"Bruce, you can only keep one secret. So, will it be yours...or the Joker's?" She asked as the phone dialed. There was a click from the other end.

 _"Harley! What's going on, I'm a little busy right now?"_ Harvey Dent said from the other line.

"Well hey there sugarplum!" Harley said cheerfully. "I don't want to keep you long, but I had something important to share with you-"

"I'll do it!" Bruce exclaimed urgently. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just- please don't tell him!"

"- the next game night's at our place. We're playing uno."

_"And you couldn't tell me this over text because?"_

"Because I wanted to be sure you got the message. You have a nasty habit of ignoring texts. I'll let you get back to...whatever it is you're doing. Bye Harvey!" She said cheerfully, hanging up the phone before she could get a response. "Now, Mr. Wayne- tell me everything"

***********

Bruce felt dirty. He'd done something wrong, and ot nagged him with every step he took towards his suit. He stared at the thing- a newer model, more heavily armoured, with a direct link to the batcomputer embedded in the cowl. He didn't deserve to wear it. How could he claim to be a hero when he'd betrayed the fragile trust of someone so dear to him?

"Sir? Are you alright?" Alfred asked from behind him. He placed a reassuring hand on Bruce's shoulder, but it was shrugged off. 

"I'm fine Alfred."

"Is this about Dr. Quinzel's visit?"

"Yes."

"I know it might not seem like it at the moment, but you did the right thing. You spared Mr. Dent a great heartbreak."

"I threw my soulmate under the bus for an ex boyfriend."

"Hardly. Dr. Quinzel would likely have found out either way, so-"

"So why did it have to be from me?"

Alfred sighed. "Because you're a good man, Bruce. Dr. Quinzel knew she could get the information faster if she used that against you."

Their conversation was cut short with a shrill ring from the batphone. Tentatively, Bruce picked it up.

_"Batman? This is Commissioner Gordon. It's the Joker. He's causing trouble at the boardwalk. No one's hurt, yet. But it could escalate in a heartbeat."_

"I know. I know how he works. I'll be there right away"

"Duty calls, Master Bruce. I find it a good time to bring to your attention the communicator that has been installed in your cowl. Do make use of it, despite the fact that I highly doubt you're in any danger where the Joker is concerned."

"I will. Thank you Alfred."

Bruce suits up and leaves in a hurry, less because of the urgency, and more because he can't stand to see himself in the suit. Not with what he's done. Not with what he might have to do when he arrives. He wonders if he'll ever be able to be the Batman again, with the Joker as his soulmate. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That took forever and a day! If you haven't figured it out by now, I love to overcomplicate things. Have another layer of mystery! This chapter is mostly Telltale based. 
> 
> Here you go!♤

When Batman pulled up to the boardwalk, the first thing he noticed was the utter sense of normalcy. Families were milling about the carnival, children screaming for cotton candy while their parents looked like they needed more than a little sleep. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, except for the armed henchmen wandering the park amidst the unconcerned citizens. But even they seemed innocent enough. He suddenly felt very out of place in such a peaceful environment. Nevertheless, he walked through the gates with extreme caution.

"Batman! You came! For a minute I was worried I'd have to start taking hostages." The Joker exclaimed from behind him. 

Batman whipped around, immediately taking a defensive stance. "I was called. What is this about, Joker? This isn't your style." Bruce growled, the new voice modifier in his cowl making his tone even deeper. 

"Of course it isn't. This isn't _my_ heist. I just thought it would be fun. You know, getting out of that stuffy lair, enjoying the summer breeze by the shore, and seeing you of course. Speaking of, I simply _adore_ the new suit!" Joker chattered happily. 

"What do you mean 'this isn't _your_ heist'?" Batman asked, ignoring all other parts of the conversation. 

"Well, I owed Selina a favor, so I agreed to play decoy while she commits a high profile art robbery across town. Besides, I think it's about time you and I went on a proper date, and the boardwalk is just as good a place as any. We can share a cotton candy, and ride the bumper cars, and you can win me a giant teddy bear."

"No, Joker. I have to go stop Catwoman and-"

"Catwoman is probably 20 miles outside of Gotham by now! Look, I'm sorry we argued. Really it's all my fault. Let me make it up to you by-"

"Goddammit Joker! I don't have time for your games! I have an expert cat burglar to catch up with, so unless there's an actual crime being committed-"

"What is your problem?! I'm trying to do a nice thing for you, and you're just dashing off again! I'm not even commiting a true crime! Look at me, Bats! I'm out in public and _not_ wreaking havoc! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!" Joker snapped

"No, what you're doing is impeding an investigation. Let's not do this here." Bruce sighed.

"Oh my god! I've figured it out!" Joker gasped. "You're _ashamed_ of me!"

"Joker, you are stopping me from doing my job. I'm calling GCPD, they'll take care of you while I-"

"Those buffoons can't do anything! Well, except for the Gordons, but they're likely on the hunt for Catwoman. But that's not the point!" Joker shouted, stomping his foot in anger.

"Joker, it's exactly the point. She's out of their jurisdiction now. I need to bring her back. Look-" Bruce sighed, gripping the Joker's wrist firmly. "Just clear out while you still can." 

"You _are_ ashamed of me, aren't you?" Joker said dejectedly, glazing over Bruce's words. "I understand. I'd be ashamed of me too."

"Please don't make me do this now. Not in public. Not in costume. Not while I have a crime to stop." Bruce said desperately. Less than a month ago, he would have cuffed him to a pole and been off to stop Catwoman by now. Truth be told, he didn't know why he was lingering. The sound of sirens abruptly cut off his train of thought. "If you're planning an escape, now would be the time."

"No. Not this time." Joker wrenched his wrist back, taking several steps back. He pulled out a walkie talkie and lifted it to his lips. "Playtime's over, boys. Scatter."

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked. This wasn't right. This entire situation was just wrong. The Joker never did someone else's dirty work, he never went anywhere remotely public without the intention to harm, and he sure as hell didn't give up without a fight.

"Giving them a chance to get out before the cops nab 'em." Joker said nonchalantly, tucking the walkie talkie back in his pocket. 

"No, I mean why aren't you trying to escape?"

The Joker smiled widely, walking slowly towards the Batman. In lieu of an answer, he wrapped his arms around the Bat's neck and kissed him, smearing bright red lipstick across his face. He pulled away just in time for Bruce to wipe it off before Leutnant Montoya and the Commissioner got out of the vehicle. Suddenly, the Joker moved to punch him. Almost reflexively, Bruce caught him by the wrist, flipping him over his head and onto the concrete. 

"Damn it, Batman! You ruined a perfectly good getaway. Again!" He groaned from the ground. 

"Batman! Do you have him under control?" Montoya asked from a safe distance, her weapon aimed at the clown. 

"Yes. Cuff him." Bruce said, trying not to let his confusion show through.

The Commissioner moved forward quickly, jerking the Joker's sleeves up and securing the cuffs around his wrists. In the action, his eyes caught a glimpse of black against the stark white skin. One that hadn't been there the last time he'd cuffed this sadistic lunatic. Rather violently, he jerked the man's wrist upward, pulling his sleeve up further.

"Ow! I'm not meant to bend that way, Jim!" Joker gasped, half pained, half irritated. 

Bruce was frozen in horror as the Commissioner read his name off of the Joker's wrist. He knew that he should do something, he just didn't know what. Gordon's eyes met the slits in his mask, and Bruce knew that he knew.

"....Get him in the car." He grunted, shoving the Joker towards her. She obeyed without hesitation, however she looked upon him with great concern. Once he was certain that they were out of earshot, Jim Gordon fixed him with a steely gaze. "Give me one reason not to cuff you."

"Because I keep your men alive." Bruce said flatly.

"At what cost? Jones is still out there, Kyle got away this evening, Nygma got off scott-free with....whatever _that_ was. And now this?" Gordon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exhasperation. "Batman, you're on thin ice. I want you in my office tomorrow no later than noon to discuss the Jack Napier case, and then, we'll talk about your relationship with Gotham's police force." He turned to leave, lighting a cigarette. 

"I won't stop." Bruce called after him. 

Gordon exhaled a puff of smoke. Without turning back, he said "I know you won't." And climbed into the cruiser.

Bruce watched the taillights fade into Gotham's haze, feeling too much and nothing all at the same time. Once, just once, he wished that someone would tell him what was going on. A voice came over the communicator installed in the new cowl.

 _"Master Bruce? What's happening out there?"_ Alfred asked with concern

"It was a trap. A distraction so that Catwoman could rob an art gallery." Bruce replied

_"A distraction? A team up with Catwoman? I know I'm not an expert, persay, but that doesn't sound very much like the Joker."_

"It's not. Not at all. But we have bigger problems on our hands: Gordon knows my identity." 

_"Oh dear."_

"'Oh dear' indeed."

*************

Bruce didn't even try to sleep. He had too much to do. Security at Wayne Manor had to be tightened, for one. 3 people knew his identity already, and there was no telling how many more would find out. And he had to find Croc. Catwoman's robbery might have been the most recent disturbance, but she was less likely to kill.

However, Bruce's anxiety kept him from focusing. Every lead he could trace was punctuated with a new worry, all of them falling under the greater umbrella of worry that he was failing Gotham. Failing his parents. Failure was not an option. Sure, he'd recover from that fall just fine. He had the privilege of being able to buy his way out of anything. But he couldn't let the Batman become just another rich kid fantasy. The hero needed to stand for something. He was unable to think like this. Bruce slammed his fist on the table where he'd been working, up ending a jar of pens and several sheets of paper. 

"Goddammit!" He cursed, bending down to pick the objects up.

"Would you like a hand?" Alfred offered from the doorway. 

"I'll never understand how you manage to move so soundlessly in a place where everything echoes." Bruce said, startled.

"Do forgive me. It's an old habit from her Majesty's secret service." Alfred explained more than apologized, bending down to pick up the pens before Bruce could deliver an answer.

"The secret service?" Bruce asked, eyebrow cocked

"You aren't the only person who's allowed secrets, Sir." Alfred said with a smirk, returning the jar to the desk.

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce said, sinking back into the desk chair. The pain in his calf told him that he had likely over done it for the night, but he wasn't anywhere close to a breakthrough.

"You're going to bed soon?"

"I'm afraid not, Alfred. I've got too much to do."

"You don't appear to be doing anything other than distress yourself." Alfred scowled. "Besides, I've been an utterly horrible caretaker for letting you run around the city on that leg."

"I'm a grown man, Alfred. I don't need a caretaker." 

"That is yet to be seen."

The ringing of the batphone cut off whatever retort Bruce had been about to deliver. He limped across the room to pick it up.

"Hello?"

 _"Heya, Buddy!"_ the Joker's voice rang out loudly across the line.

"I told you to stop calling this number." Bruce responded in monotone. 

_"Yeesh. So rude. Don't make me regret using my one phone call on you."_

"Joker, the batphone is for emergencies only." Bruce whispered harshly into the receiver. 

_"Well, I think being in jail qualifies as an emergency. Besides, I wanted to let you know that there's talk of bail, since I was such a good boy. Perhaps your friend, oh, what was his name- Bruno? Maybe he could do me a favor?"_

"Maybe." Bruce said gruffly. He understood that the Joker was avoiding saying his name on purpose, and despite his frustration, he appreciated the gesture. "You had a chance to escape, and you chose to get caught. It sounds like a waste of money."

_"Yes, well that was before Gordon saw my soulmark. I really ought to invest in a nice pair of cufflinks."_

"I'll think about it, okay? But I'm in hot water now, and I don't know if I can afford to do something so... controversial." Bruce sighed.

_"Alright then. By the way, if you want to find Jones, I'd check at the Iceberg Lounge. Ozzy is a talker. Goodbye darling. Do think our conversation over, would you?"_

"Okay."

A click on the other end followed by the dial tone signified the end of that conversation. Bruce picked up a yellow legal pad and wrote down "the Iceberg Lounge" before setting it back down with his notes on Croc's most recent break out. Stretching, he made his way to the elevator. He'd decided to spare Alfred the stress and go to bed after all. Besides, he'd have to look well rested for the meeting tomorrow. Tabloid rumors were the last thing he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the weird repetition of my end notes from like, 2 chapters ago. I use mobile and honestly have no idea wtf is going on. But It's not going to stop me from using mobile. c:
> 
> Especially since that note will be relevant from here on out.

**Author's Note:**

> Joker: *backflips into a wheelchair* I have crippling depression!


End file.
